Its a long road to hell, don't walk alone
by highimjessicrunk
Summary: Reflections from the past leave Bro with a smile.


Scars littered your body like a road map. Each one telling its own unique story. In your younger days, you looked at each one like a trophy. Now, at almost thirty-seven, all you see is a life of hardship. You stripped your clothes off before stepping into the hot spray of the shower, and you'd shed your skin if you could. This time of the day is when you do the most thinking, and sometimes reminisce on the past, like right now.  
A thick cloud of steam takes residence in the bathroom as you relax your shoulders working a lather into them, noting a faded scar on your right shoulder-blade. Despite how you got it, you can't help but smile.

* * *

At seventeen you thought you had it all figured out. Like most teenagers your age, you finally had enough of having empty pockets and walked into a small mom-and-pop diner in town to ask for a job. It was stressful to say the least, and it took you some time to get into the swing of things, but well worth it when you got that first paycheck. Your first paycheck.

Home life was anything less than comforting, and you were thankful for the escape your job gave you. You're mother had a bad drug habit, and your father couldn't hold a job for more than a few months. Even then, he spent every dime he had on his good friend Jack Daniels. Things went from bad to worse the day your mother sat your down and broke the news that you were going to be a brother.  
In a matter of time, your eighteenth birthday came around, and you signed yourself out of school and blew that full ride to college you had planned your life around. Hours picked up at the diner, and before you knew it, your weekend job had quickly turned into a way to make ends meet. With a new baby in the house it was hard to get sleep and most days you forced yourself out of bed for his sake. For Dave's sake.

After explaining your situation your boss changed your schedule so you could take care of Dave during the day and work the night shift. Sleep was few and far between but you managed to show up to work even on the most tired of nights with a smile on your face. Mondays were particularly slow and you hadn't been tipped since the night started. It wasn't unusual for you to wait tables that left a mess and no tip, but tonight you felt really off your game and it was starting to show. Thankfully you got off early and sat in the parking lot in your truck listening to Bob Segar until you thought it was safe to go home. This too had come a part of your nightly routine.

The streetlights lit up the complex you lived in giving you just enough light to head upstairs, where you heard shouting before you had time to turn in the key in the door. Eviction was so close you could taste its bitterness and that thought alone was enough to turn your stomach. In tears your mother met you at the door with a bruise on her cheek and it was obvious what had happened. That was the first time you took a swing on your old man. That night you were dealt a really bad hand and if you were a gambling man you would put money that your father had a little too much to drink by the way he shouted in your face, the smell of whiskey tainting the air. Going toe to toe with someone who has spent the better part of the night drinking away their problems was a bad idea and you knew it the moment you found yourself on the floor with your shoulder hard pressed into the edge of the coffee table.

You were no dumb ass, and you knew all too well what the police car in the parking lot was here for. A hard knock at the door confirmed that when the officer gave you the run around stating there was a complaint from the neighbors. Probable cause gave him right to search the place from top to bottom with a fine tooth comb finding your mothers stash of contraband reading her and your father their rights as you watched them file into the police cruiser. Any family you had, was long gone, leaving you as Dave's next of kin. You saw the officer off, Dave in tow and you lulled him back to sleep with the acoustic guitar you hadn't picked up since you were sixteen. That was the last night you saw them, but at least you still had Dave, and you would walk through Hell to keep it that way.

* * *

Memory lane was a dark place to go down, this much was true, but there were those exceptions like these which you look back on with a biter sweet smile. The water had began to run cold and that was your queue. Leaning over you grabbed a towel off the rack, shaking your hair off as you stepped out. You towel dried as much as possible and slipped into a pair of worn out gym shorts before exiting the bathroom, where Dave stood before you in the hallway.

"Jesus bro, its like a fucking sauna in there. Thanks for saving me some hot water." He said rolling his eyes.

You humor him and give him what he wants. "No problem, little man. I knew you'd appreciate it."

He rolls his eyes with a huff as he walks into the kitchen and you follow suit waiting on the age-old question of what would be on the menu tonight. Its Tuesday, and you are willing to bet anything that he is going to ask for take out.  
You know him all to well, and he won't break an old habit like takeout Tuesday for anything. He came through without fail.

"Hey bro, I want chinese tonight if that's cool. We could watch a movie or something if you want."

Who are you to break tradition? That would be criminal.

"Sure, kid, sounds like a plan."

His face lit up like the fourth of July and its moments like this you live for and you join him on the couch to watch fight club for the millionth time. You know all the lines and so does he, but you couldn't see things being any other way, so you roll with it, just like every Tuesday. And like every Tuesday, Dave is paying no attention to the movie just as you predicted. You've gotten accustomed to that look he gets when he's thinking about something, that fire in his eyes, which surprisingly enough aren't hidden behind a pair of shades.

"I know that look. Spill it."

" Its nothing, man. Just thinking."

He presses into your side clinging to your shirt just enough to plant his raw bitten lips against your neck. Teenage hormones had him under lock and key like every seventeen year old and it was more than obvious when he reached out for you in a fever, pulling you impossibly closer. Dave was still young, but he knew exactly what he wanted so you gave into his desire the best you could without crossing that line. The line was fine, and you were already treading in dangerous waters, no need to drown yourself, right? You turned to him, gingerly slipping your fingers into his hair, pressing your lips on his until his appetite for self-destruction had subsided.


End file.
